Boyz in the Head
by Pirate Bob
Summary: Ponyboy and Johnny have a lively debate which ends in tragedy. Comic Justice demands the punishment of Two Bit, but what did Darry ever do to deserve the same? Life is never fair, it seems. Nor is Death, which comes panhandling along, not far behind as usual.


_Disclaimer: Just borrowin' not stealin'. With love from Pirate Bob._

Arrr, Ponyboy was smoking again. "I just can't help it," he thought. "I'm not cool, and I'm not fast, but I can do this. This is something I can do better than anyone."

"That's not true," said a voice in his head.

"Johnny!" said Ponyboy aloud. "I told you to stay home."

"But Ponyboy, I am home. I'm at home right here inside your skull."

"Get out of there," said Ponyboy. "People already think I'm strange and hopeless, now if they hear me talking to myself, guess what?"

"What?" echoed the voice.

"Well, they'll say I need a straight jacket, too. Hey, that'd be cool. We both need a straight jacket."

"No we don't," shouted Ponyboy. "There's no we, here." And he ran from the boys room into the hall with his hands over his head. But he'd forgotten all about the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. He slipped back into class and parkoured smoothly into his desk before Mr. Thomson the teacher turned around from the blackboard.

"Okay, class," said Mr. Thomson, "I need a volunteer to recite what we've been learning.

"Yesss," shouted Johnny.

"No, you clown," said Ponyboy. "Sit down, fool."

"Make me."

The whole class turned and stared at Ponyboy. He was standing with his back turned to the rest of them, having a heated argument with no one. Mr. Thomson glided forward and grabbed Ponyboy by his blonde locks. "My boy, you've gone and awakened me bad side."

Mr. Thomson turned around and he was holding Ponyboy off the ground by the hair. Ponyboy's legs pumped wildly but to no avail. The median age of those present was fifteen and a half, so the spectacle appeared comical and some of the girls began giggling.

"No, let him go!" screamed Johnny inside Ponyboy, but it seemed to the class that Ponyboy was saying it. "He doesn't like it when you touch his hair like that," warned Johnny. Ponyboy was in too much pain to say anything for himself.

Mr Thomson held the 15 year old with one hand and jerked the cigarette from the boy's mouth with the other. "And smoking in school, too? They ought to make it a law, no tobacco for minors!" he said. Then he strode with Pony to the window where the classroom looked down from its second story level. "This," said Mr. Thomson to the rest of the class, "is what we do to children who smoke and talk to themselves in class."

While everyone stood aghast, Mr Thomson their psychopathic teacher opened the window and with one swoop, pitched the double minded boy through. Girls stopped giggling and fainted. One senior lab assistant peed his pants but hid it well. Ponyboy fell through the air.

It seemed all was lost. The parking lot swirled toward them. Then, at the last second, Johnny saved the day. "Ponyboy!" he said.

"What?"

"Let me take your body."

"What? Why? We're about to die."

"I'm already dead. Just let me take it."

"I'm not sure."

"Buddy, the ground is coming up fast."

"Okay, I'll trust you, take it."

Johnny parkoured into a forward dive, hit the ground rolling and somersaulted down the hill where he jumped two parked cars and a dumpster, flipped around on the basket ball court rim and then handsprung back up to the wall, leapt and grabbed his way up until he could flip back through the window into the class room.

The girls got up off the floor and cheered. The boys, drop-jawed, broke into applause. "How did he do that, Mr. Thompson?" said the senior, hoping to keep attention diverted from himself a bit longer while he surreptitiously mopped up a yellowish liquid using an over-awed freshman's jacket.

Mr. Thompson only shook his head and spun in circles while Johnny danced and parkoured around him. He was too speechless to call for order.

"That was cool," said Ponyboy. "Now can you stop circling? I'm getting dizzy."

"Not yet. I'm looking for something." Johnny continued to keep everyone turning with him. Pretty soon everyone was in a tightly twisted little group, tangled around each other. No one was sure whose limbs were whose anymore. Feet and arms jutted from the writhing mass of bodies.

"I don't care," said Ponyboy, "I want my body back. Stop doing that. Stop it."

"Nope."

And just then, Johnny spied what he was looking for. "Ahhh," he said, lighting upon the cigarette on Mr Thomson's desk. It was still burning. Johnny raised it and took a long drag. "Ahhhh," he said, chuckling. He had finally stopped circling. "I never thought I'd smoke again, but Ahhhhh, that hits the spot."

"Young man," said Mr. Thomson from the twisted tangle, "I command you to put that down."

"Okay," said Johnny, relenting. He ran to the window and leapt out. "Here's your body back," he said to Ponyboy.

"Noooooooooooooooooo."

One week later, Ponyboy and Johnny were having a discussion. Two Bit Matthews had just come out of the coma he'd been in. It had been touch and go for a while, but now they were sure he was going to be okay. "Oh good," said Johnny, elbowing Ponyboy. "He's waking up."

"What happened?" asked Two Bit.

"Something fell on you," said Johnny.

"Yeah," said Ponyboy, "you got hit in the head."

Two Bit looked around, startled. "Who…who's there?"

"I don't see anyone else but you, me, and Johnny," said Ponyboy, scanning the hospital room.

"I don't' see either of you, Pony—wait! What did you say? Did you just say 'Johnny'?

Ponyboy blew his nose. "Yeah, it's a long story." He looked around for something to wipe his hands on.

"It's a story about a curse," put in Johnny.

"No, it's more of a ghost story."

"Yeah, but it's a ghost story that also includes a curse."

"Okay, whatever you say. You're the boss, Johnny."

Two Bit rolled his eyes from one ear to the other and then back to the first. "Uh…" he said.

Johnny said, "That's right, I'm the boss, and don't you forget it. Now, Two Bit, can you hear me?"

This time Two Bit didn't respond. He was in mid-series of taking some quick short breaths.

"Whoa," said Ponyboy looking at a monitor near the bed, "He's getting a bit too much oxygen, wouldn't you say?"

"How should I know?" said Johnny, "They kept me face down or face up all the time I was in the hospital. I don't know what it should read." But he looked down at Two Bit. "Slow down, Buddy," he said. "Slowwww wayyyyy down."

"Get out of my head!" screamed Two Bit, suddenly jumping from the bed. He ripped IV and monitor leads from his flesh as he rushed from the room, only to stumble and ram his face into SodaPop's stomach. Soda, who had been coming in to visit his old friend, sat down in a heap and threw up on Steve's shoes who had agreed to bring him over in his car.

"What the croak!" said Steve, disgusted.

Two Bit grabbed Steve by his jacket, folding it back over his fists like lapels. "Get me out of here, Steve, they're after me. They're all around me."

"Good ol' Two Bit," said Soda Pop, standing to his feet and clutching his gut. "Always clowning." He didn't smile, though.

Steve shook Two Bit off. "Come on, Keith!" he snarled. "I'm glad you're up and feeling better and all, but can't you see Soda's in a lot of pain? Do I have to draw you a picture?"

Two Bit stopped. Hearing his real name used in anger always had a sobering effect on him. "What?" he said, looking at Soda for the first time. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you badly? I guess I was just out of my mind."

"They've got you on some good medication, huh?" said Soda.

The three of them walked back into Two Bit's room where Two Bit allowed himself to be helped back into bed. "Maybe that's it, I'm just high on drugs," he said.

"You ain't high on drugs," said Johnny. "You're high on life as usual."

Two Bit moaned.

"What's wrong with him?" said Steve, looking at Soda and jerking his thumb at Two Bit.

"They're back again," said Two Bit.

"Who're back?" said Ponyboy?

"You two are."

"Who is he talking to?" said Steve. Sodapop shrugged.

Two Bit folded his arms. "Ponyboy and Johnny," he said. "They've apparently taken up residence in my head."

"Really?" asked Soda, intrigued.

Two Bit and Steve looked at him. "Well," he said, "That would make sense with Ponyboy anyway, since he fell to his death on your head at school a week ago. But Johnny, nah, that doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does, said Ponyboy. "Johnny was in my head when he got us killed."

Soda and Steve looked at Two Bit. Steve said, "What was Johnny doing in your head, Keith?"

"Not me," said Two Bit, "Ponyboy's"

"Ohhhh."

This is too weird for me," said Soda

"It's too weird for any of us," said Johnny.

Steve and Ponyboy said in unison, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Then they all jumped up and sprang out the window to their deaths.

But they happened to all land on Darry as he was getting out of his car with some flowers and a get well card.

The End.

_Note from Pirate Bob: I be sure ye'll all love this'n since I done cut me own throat out to write it. I have 'ad it up ta me ears with complainers who can't read pirate.  
_


End file.
